Running the gauntlet

The one thing I hate about having to walk through Martin Place is the feeling of having to run the gauntlet. Normally, it is frequented by free-roaming backpackers who have been hired by various charities to hunt the vulnerable and emotionally guilt them out of their credit card details - a practice which I believe is illegal in more civilised countries. They travel in packs so that you can't simply slip past unnoticed. (And don't get me wrong here - I have several charities I donate to; I just object to being harrassed the way that these predators do it).

Today was running the gaunlet at a whole new level of difficulty, but more for the hired guns. Today, when I walked through, there were at least one thousand screaming teenaged girls, all here to see One Direction come out of the nearby tv studio.

I don't actually know anything about One Direction, except that they're obviously a boyband, judging by the demographic of the screaming fans.

Anyway, this was a nightmare for the charity predators - a sea of potential victims to tap, but they were all underage and therefore a 'hands off' policy applied. I felt very smug at being able to sneak through the crowd unmolested for once thanks to the amount of camouflage the girls afforded. The bonus was that wherever you looked, some girl had donned an outlandish costume (turtle, cat etc), presumably to catch their idol's attention. A quite entertaining morning, all up.

Never thought I would say it, but thank god for boybands.